Part 2: Dusk

York smiled slightly at the sight of the crossed gun and sword tattoo. Still ridiculous. Still badass. Still a little enviable. And after everything they'd gone through today...it was a welcome distraction.

The gentle tinkle from the tail piercing made him twitch involuntarily and a smirk teased his muzzle for a moment. This goddamn redneck. He took a step forward and a pair of deep-blue eyes peered over a shoulder to gaze back at him. They filled with affection before quickly shifting to concern as his strange buddy shoved himself up to his paws and jogged over. "Aw shit...York..."

York held up a hand, though had little hope of avoiding the tight embrace around his torso. Not that he would have, since he immediately returned it and closed his eyes as the two clung fiercely to each other for a few seconds. "Heya, Sammy. Whadda day, huh?"

"No shit," Samael murmured against his chest as they both pulled back to gaze at one another. Samael frowned and reached up while York automatically lowered his head a bit so Samael's fingers could play carefully around his eye. "Gawddamn, pal...yer li'l pine cone wasn't wrong, you should be restin' yer big ass..."

"Aw, shut your trap," York replied quietly as he let his hands rest on Samael's sides while his friend examined his wound for a moment longer. York couldn't help but notice the fresh scarring on Samael's lower jaw, one of the crimson studs looking different from the others. "Hell, look who's talking, anyway -- what the hell's that?"

Samael shrugged, his attention still on York. "Promise ya it ain't as tragic as losin' yer damn eye, buddy..."

York snorted softly even as reality nibbled at him again, reminding him this was one injury he wouldn't be recovering fully from. "Ugh. Guess it's a good thing I like being up close and personal instead of relying on depth perception, huh?" The two shared a quiet laugh and then York flexed his fingers into Samael's waist. "Anyway, after that meeting, you know I needed some fresh air as much as you did..."

Samael smiled faintly, his thumb tracing the still-pink tissue before he finally pulled back and cupped York's neck with both hands. "Lord, yeah -- y'all got kinda fucked up, Nelson wasn't havin' no shit today. Though guess it's kinda my fault -- she's still sore at Miz Wash fer gettin' all snappy over my bullshit. Picked a shitty time to blow up the biggest ammo dump this side'a Sirca, eh?"

"Wash is right, you and I do love making ourselves the center of attention," York teased even as he shrugged and then shifted to slide an arm around Samael's waist. Samael did the same and the two strode forward before dropping down simultaneously to sit near the edge of the steep mountain cliff. York glanced down and smiled slightly at the way Samael trembled even as the stocky chupa took in a few sharp breaths. "I see you still haven't gotten over that fear of yours, huh?"

"Aw hush," Samael murmured as he dropped his head on York's bicep and gazed across the dust-strewn atmosphere of Qoppa. "Don't help that Andee's always shovin' at me every time we're near a ledge. Little fucker's gonna be the death of me."

"Guess that's our curse, too," York chuckled before wincing when Samael immediately glanced up at him.

"So...what happened..."

"No, no...wasn't Wash's fault," York interrupted as he squeezed Samael's side. "We were all pretty equally stupid for not thinking about what would happen if we strolled into the goddamn home of Project Werewolf with two werewolves in the group. No single person to blame."

"Except maybe the Director," Samael muttered, chewing on the inside of his muzzle as he shook his head slowly. "I'd break my fuckin' promise for that fucker, hands down."

York paused and then gazed down at his friend curiously. His tail naturally hooked around Samael's as if to soften the blow of his words. "When...when was the last time you killed someone?"

Samael chuckled, and the sound was a bit dry. "More recent'n ya think..." He jerked a thumb to the wound on his muzzle. "Shit's still kinda sore. HADES bastard. Do or die, though -- was either gonna be him or me 'n the new guy I dragged back from the Red depot." He paused and then glanced down at his hand for a moment. "Then me'n Andee took care'a that...that thing for Nelson 'n Wash. But that was fer all our safety...that was fer North." York gave himself a few seconds to remember the last time he'd traded a fist bump with North, and the goddamn pointless tragedy of his death. He silently wished he could have been there with Samael when they'd gone after the ones responsible for his loss. "'Fore that, though. It was, uh. It was somethin' less...kill-or-get-killed. Li'l more personal." York felt the way Samael's soul ached and he pulled his friend a bit closer to his side. "We'll chat 'bout it some other time, eh?"

"Yeah, of course, Sammy," York murmured while leaning over to nudge his companion's muzzle with his own. "Been a long day already."

"Gonna be a long night, too," Samael replied softly as his hand drifted along York's back. York eyed him for a second before following his companion's gaze toward the setting sun. He wasn't sure if it was just some redneck idiom -- sounded like the kinda deep shit Tracer used to spout. All he knew is that he agreed with the emotion behind his friend's words, palpable as it was.

York exhaled and then grumbled as he shifted a bit. Samael blinked and lifted his arm automatically before looking amused as York dropped his head into his lap while continuing to look across the reddish peaks surrounding them. "Your turn to be the puppy, huh?"

"Gimme a break. Lost my damn eye," York mumbled as he folded his arms and then closed his eyes when Samael's fingers drifted along his muzzle. "No offense, Sammy, but I kinda wish you were Wash."

The gentle chuckle rumbled the back of his head. "Shit, pal, why would that offend me? Wish I was Wash too, bet you give him like twice as much fine lovin's as ya do me." The teasing was playful, yet laced with enough honesty that it made York smile faintly. "Although, y'know, yer pine cone might be down fer some cuddles considerin' the railin' he just got from Mama..."

"Heh. God, you ain't lyin'..." York shook his head as Samael's fingers played lightly over his features before stroking through his mane, his companion's other hand rubbing along his burly arm. "You know how hard it was for Wash to ask for help, though."

"Yeah...so I know shit's serious," Samael answered with a grunt. "He's got 'nuff trouble just askin' y'all fer help."

York's smile was still small, but it was grateful. Geezus, as much trouble as he and Samael got in together, he was lucky to have a friend who understood his unique personality better than anyone else on the ring. Not to mention someone who actually paid attention to something other than just the York. He rarely had to explain Wash to Samael, just as Samael rarely had to do the same with Andee. They just listened to each other, considering they were both goddamn talkative enough to fill an encyclopedia with all the inane shit they rambled about between themselves.

"Yeah...yeah, that's Wash..." York stretched an arm up and quietly ran his palm along Samael's shin. "So what's the verdict from your...lord, I can't say it."

Samael snickered above him and tousled his mane playfully before continuing to trace his claws through it. "Aw, c'mon, don't she just ooze maternal instincts 'n shit?"

"The only thing she oozes is lesbian acid and the fury of a thousand handicapped suns," York mumbled, even as he smirked and closed his eyes to let Samael's ministrations soothe the aches inside and out. "A'right, fine, what's Mama's verdict?"

"Ayyyyy, it ain't so hard, izzit?" Samael replied teasingly before his chuckling sobered and the hand around York's bicep squeezed lightly. "She ain't happy with the plan. An' this is comin' from the chick who started rollin' her ass into live combat missions recently..." He exhaled and York felt him shift a bit before the motions from his fingers softened. "She wants evidence, hon. Hard evidence. Think she still figures it'll be a rerun of what she went through out here in these mountains..."

"I guess I don't really blame her," York murmured. "That raid hit her hard. It's like I said, wasn't like she was Miss Congeniality before, but man. She clammed up worse than Wash after that." He reached up to self-consciously rub at his scarred eyelid. "Guess she also lost a little bit more than an eye."

"Yeah, but she's still a mean ol' bitch," Samael offered before York felt the hand on his arm lift. He opened his eyes to see Samael pointing out across the mountain range sprawling before them. "Heh. Jus' over there's actually where I got my jaw all fucked up. Shit. Din' even think about it. Feels like forever ago now, so much shit's happened the last week'r so..."

York rolled his head back briefly to study the slowly-healing scar on his friend's muzzle before gazing back out across the landscape and pointing to a different cluster of jagged peaks. "Nelson's old base was about an hour that way. Man, it was really something, too. Put even Sidewinder to shame..."

Samael laughed a bit and let his hand drop back to massage along York's arm. "Yeah. Never did see it m'self, but I remember seein' the smoke. Nelson 'n her folks almost gunned me down, dumb, panicked kid runnin' around the desert covered in blood 'n claimin' he was lookin' fer the Movement..."

"Good lord, have we done some things," York marveled, settling his own hand on Samael's leg again. "Wish ya coulda been there for more of it, Sammy -- you'da been a real damn hoot at Specials. Bet you woulda knocked us down a peg for all the teasing we did of poor Wash, you and your bleeding redneck heart."

"Yeah, he mighta ended up my pine cone if that were the case!" Samael teased while poking a claw lightly against the top of York's muzzle before he stroked idly along the side of it, the two of them studying the same distant spot on the horizon. "Hey, York..."

"What's up, Sammy?"

His friend paused for a beat, which York knew instantly meant something more serious. He didn't look up, but steeled himself nevertheless as his fingers closed silently around Samael's shin. "You'n me, we share a lotta shit." His tail piercing gave a quiet tinkle, but it was oddly thoughtful, drenched with a deeper emotion that somehow didn't make York shiver in anticipation. "But y'know we both still talk around some shit, too." York found his other arm automatically crossing his own body, blindly searching for Samael's hand as their fingers interlocked. "Y'know I know what's up with yer werewolf thing..."

York exhaled as he closed his eyes, half-wishing they could just share their weird, silent, affectionate friendship without any of these conversations...and yet knowing he wanted them. Some things had stayed safely buried between them, never a threat to their bond, never a dark shadow that loomed menacingly...simply subjects they acknowledged didn't need to see the light of day to be felt, and to be understood. They knew each other too well, and maybe there was just an unspoken fear that sharing too much would make their tightly-knit friendship feel uncomfortably intimate.

...But christ, weren't they already uncomfortably intimate? And did either of them truly feel any discomfort about it?

York sampled a gentle redirection, anyway. "Heh. Yeah, I know, pal. Seen ya cry about it, even. Ya big old baby..."

"Haw...yeah. You ain't wrong, hon. I got no shame 'bout that." Another pause, and the deafening silence told York the attempt at avoiding this was pointless -- Samael was too good. And deep down, he was glad for it, because he didn't know if he'd have the strength to do it himself. "Hey, this shit. It feels like it's gonna happen."

York opened his eyes again as Samael held his head gently against his taut stomach. He didn't want his friend to ache with this additional knowledge...but he also knew it was unfair of him to not share it all the same. "Nelson needs proof," York replied softly.

Samael sighed and York felt the glum nod. "She does, but. We'll find it. An' I c'n already see it in her, she knows. She knows this is gonna happen, no matter what she says. I know that look she gets. So you c'n let yer Wash know what she wants, but. I ain't thinkin' we're gonna turn back. And..." York was compelled to twist his head back again and found Samael gazing down at him, their faces mirroring the same quiet fortitude. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Samael smiled faintly and ran his thumb along York's cheek. "I don't wanna have no more secrets. Just in case."

York nodded against his hand before he rolled onto his back but left his head in his friend's lap. "Yeah. You're right, Sammy. No more secrets." He reached up to quietly tap beneath his dead eye. "What'd you hear?"

Samael studied his injury and then gave a melancholic smile. "You'n the pale blue fella both got turned. Y'all tussled 'n you were probably gonna kill 'im if that din' happen." He gestured to the scarring.

York nodded again. "That's about the gist of it, yeah." He licked his lips before glancing down at Samael's chest, feeling the ribbon of shame tickle over his gut. "Church's buddy did this to me. Put himself between me and his friend, to stop me from killing the guy. Because god, yeah. I know I would have." He let out a long breath before closing his eyes when Samael stroked over his cheek reassuringly. "Wash was actually the one to put me out, though." He reached around to rub the back of his skull, where he still felt a lump. "Knocked me out before I could keep going. I..." York's breath hitched as he clenched his jaws together for a moment. "Since I had no control, Wash was. Just something in the way. He hasn't talked about it, but...I threw him off my back, Sammy, and..." His enormous body trembled but Samael was there to pull him silently closer to his stomach. "I don't wanna think what coulda happened. If I had hurt him, fuck..." Samael was silent, giving him the space to continue quietly. "I can't even imagine what he was thinking, either. The fact he had to be the one, after I..."

He trailed off and Samael's slow exhale told York plenty. Damn this empathetic bastard, but bless him, too. York snaked his arm around Samael's waist and let his head shove into his stomach with a muffled sigh. The seconds ticked by, but there was no urgency now. He knew they'd get out what they needed to, as it came to them. He just let himself absorb the comfort he could, knowing Samael was giving it to him without hesitation.

Samael eventually spoke, his drawl gliding smoothly through the thick velvet of their odd but welcome affections. "I can't even pretend to know what that musta felt like, hon."

York smiled faintly up at him. "Bullshit, Sammy. If anyone knows how to put themselves in someone else's shorts...it's you."

Samael smiled back quietly, running his fingers through his mane. "Yeah, a'right, ya got me there. I'm sure Wash was terrified, sure." York frowned even if he knew Samael wasn't wrong. "But I'm sure he ain't scared'a you. An' I'm sure he ain't blamin' you, neither. He knows it weren't yer fault."

"Except..." York sighed and worried his lip for a moment. "Sammy, when I trigger it myself, I have more control." He looked up at his friend's face, drawing strength from his soft expression. "And it feels...you feel unstoppable. Like you can do anything." He glanced down as he clenched his free hand into a fist. "Like you can protect anyone." His eyes went to the key, and he felt Samael's follow.

It was time.

He drew in a long, unsteady breath and then forced himself to sit up. Samael was quiet, moving his hands to allow his friend to reposition himself at his side once more. York slid an arm around his waist again, then reached up to grip into the pendant as his thumb stroked slowly over the worn metal. "When we were in Freelancer, I had...I had a different partner. Wash and I, we actually put in to work together, but. They reassigned me."

Flashes of her crossed his thoughts and he swallowed. There were no regrets, only heartaches. Memories to savor, bittersweet notes to be tasted briefly...and then allowed to gently fade again.

Samael had long since fallen silent, pressing to his side and gazing up at him patiently as one of his hands drifted along York's spine. "Her name was." He stiffened up and shut his eyes tightly, forcing his maw to move. "Her name. Was Agent Carolina. And." York closed his fingers around the key. "And Lina was my everything. I loved her. I loved her so much. She was perfect in every way, because...she wasn't perfect. She was competitive and she was Freelancer's best, and she was beautiful, but she was so dedicated to the job, so committed to being perfect. And I loved that about her, I loved the fact she had flaws because it made us fit together that much better."

Samael's thumb was there to brush away the tear that rolled down his cheek as he let his emotions flow through his friend, the intense wistfulness washing over them both. York breathed out raggedly and then sniffed to clear his throat as he glanced down into Samael's eyes with a faint smile. "I know that being with her, it broke Wash's heart. It's not like we were together-together or anything. You know that already, but he and I had been partners since Specials, so." He looked down and nodded once. "He acted like he didn't care. And at the time, I didn't think about it, because I was so happy to spend more time with her. And when I hung out with Wash, he acted happy for us. Maybe sometimes it was real, but as I look back, with all the haze cleared, I. I know it almost never was. He was miserable, his two friends both always working with other partners, him back to being the outcast."

York sighed softly. "But I didn't realize it, then, because I was happy. I'd never been so happy in my life. Lina, she encouraged me to be better, to do better, to always push myself. And I like to think I gave her a reason to try and always come back, too." York pulled Samael closer and looked down again. "Then Project Werewolf started and. She was the first. Literally the first subject. But of course she was -- she was...she really was the best." He finally released the key and let his hand drop to his lap, but Samael's was there to catch it and hold it securely. "It didn't take long for the training and the missions to start taking away from our time together. And, well." York squeezed Samael's hand tightly. "I signed up, too. Wash was...he tried to stop me. He said he'd heard some bad rumors, and. I guess they weren't all rumors."

York glanced away even as he felt Samael's head rest on his shoulder, his muzzle nudging quietly into his neck for reassurance. "Things were good for a while, even with that, though. We were back to running missions together, we...man. We kicked ass. There wasn't a more badass team. But even though we were both in the program, even though we were both responding well to the treatments and the transformations, she. She was still better. So she kept being sent on solo missions." York drew a knee to his chest and wrapped his arm around it as he squeezed into Samael's shoulder. "I wasn't able to watch her back as often. And...and then, there was a job. A job she didn't come back from. We lost her. I lost her."

The tears trickled down again and he felt a quiet patter on his chest as he closed his eyes tightly. He knew he wasn't alone and he shifted his hand up to gently tug Samael's head into his breast with a thick swallow. "I, uh. Sammy, it was the first time I ever felt that...void. The emptiness that called out and promised me nothing, because that was the only thing I wanted to feel after that. Even with my shitty childhood, I never wanted to give up on life. Never. Not having her, though? It made me want nothing more than anything else life could offer me." Neither of them needed to delve further into the implications, and York had a feeling Samael wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation, himself. Whatever was in his own past no doubt brought him to the same precipice at some point, because they'd long recognized the matching shadow behind each other's eyes.

But there was an important reason not to linger. York breathed out again and let the warmth slowly roll back over him. "Except. Then, soon after she was gone..."

"Wash."

"Yeah. Wash." York gave a broken laugh, reaching up to rub his eyes and nod a few times. He then sighed and pulled Samael into his lap, wrapping his arms around him like he was a childhood toy. Might as well have been at that point. "Wash was there for me. A lot of other people were, too, but it was different with Wash. He was still my little battle buddy, we still had that bond. I was pissed at the world, and sad at everything else, but he managed to get through to me. We talked more that night than we had in ages. And the next morning, he told me CT wanted to leave Freelancer." He glanced down for a moment. "We told ourselves we were gonna do it to bring justice. To try and fix the wrongs, to stop all this terrible shit, but...especially to bring justice for what they did. Justice for Lina."

He felt Samael reach up and take hold of his key, and York exhaled slowly. "Anyway, I. I think what would have happened if I had been there. If I could have used this power for her, instead of for the missions. Actually use it for something good."

Samael was silent, though York could feel the small shift. It didn't matter -- he knew Samael would see things differently. He always did. "And that's what I thought of today, too. It was used against me, and I could have hurt...killed Wash, but. If something happened. If I had to, then..." He sighed and then dropped his muzzle onto Samael's head. "I would."

"I know, York..." Samael pushed his head silently into his chest, nodding beneath his maw. "I know."

A sense of peace was finally drifting over him, like he'd finally released the last of his burdens. All it took was telling his secrets to a stupid redneck who forced him to realize he liked dicks. "I'm sorry it took so long to talk about, Sammy. I never even say her name, not even to Wash and CT, but. I shoulda told you sooner. You deserve to know, you're...you're my..."

Samael gave a muffled sob against his chest, even as he pulled back with a teary smile. "Don't worry, pal. Ain't gonna hurt my feelin's callin' me second-best. I'm good with that." He released the key and reached up to stroke York's cheek. "Always have been. You 'n me been pals a long time, but I'd be way dumber'n I look to think I could get closer 'n Wash. Nah, we got each other 'cause the two fellas we're in love with, y'know they get sick'a our shit all day long. We hang out, they get a breather -- win-win, eh? Plus who the hell else is gonna listen to me bitch 'bout Andee's painful-ass attempts at a sixty-nine?"

York chuckled as he leaned back a bit and brushed his friend's sympathetic tears away. "Uh, you haven't told me about that yet -- rude. You know I need them details, ya short dick-dancer..."

Samael let out a small laugh, his fingers tracing York's jaw before he glanced down. He took his own deep breath and then grasped York's head gently as he gazed up at him. And there it was, that stare. The one that burrowed past York's own emotions, digging somewhere into his thoughts, his subconscious. He was used to it by now. There was no point trying to evade, and so he just smiled faintly at the way Samael clucked softly. "Aw, York. How many more times can you trigger it? Before..."

"I..." He would have looked away for anyone else, but Samael compelled him to keep the gaze even as his shoulders slumped a bit. "I don't know," he murmured, wishing it wasn't the truth. "I know Wash doesn't want me to. Hell, I don't want to. I'm already scared of not having enough time left, but I already lost one person." He dropped his forehead down against Samael's. "I can't lose him, too."

Samael's arms wrapped around his neck and he kept his head pushed against York's. "Hon, I get it. And y'know I understand if it comes to that. Lord, do I get it 'cause you know I'd do the same thing for Andee. In a fuckin' heartbeat."

York gave a pitiful laugh that nearly dipped into a messy sniffle. "Christ, Sammy, isn't that what you two fought about last time?"

"It was. But..." He sighed and the two opened their eyes simultaneously to gaze at each other again. "Don't change the way I am. I love him and..."

"Yeah. I'd do anything, too," York concluded quietly while squeezing his waist. "Wash, if he knew..."

"I know. Jus' like Andee." He shook his head a tiny bit against York's. "We're some fuckin' dumb bastards, York."

"Got that right, pal," York murmured as the two leaned back. He studied Samael and then tilted his head as the smaller rebel exhaled and rubbed at his chest. It was a familiar gesture, and York had been given enough close looks at his friend's body to know about the scar his thumb passed over. It was one of many, but York knew that one was Samael's key.

Samael glanced up into his eyes again with a half-smile. It was his turn, now, wasn't it? He wet his lips and then gave a quiet laugh as he pulled one hand from York's neck to reach down into his side-pack. "So...so y'know I spend a lotta time with Andee's people, yeah?"

York smiled and nodded, moving an arm out of Samael's way. "Sure. Heh, what, the bat-folk remind you of home?"

"A little," Samael admitted with a nod. "Those first two weeks I spent out there, I got to know a lot of 'em and their culture, it spoke to me. And even when Andee and I were, ah..." He sighed and then glanced up with a smile. "Some of 'em were kinda on...his side, y'know? But a lot of 'em were still there for me. Ol' Juwo even took me aside, gave me some ol' man advice that everyone loves gettin', y'know. All cryptic 'n shit."

He pulled a glimmering handgun from the pouch and laid it flat in his palm, gazing at it with what might have been actual affection. York didn't blame him -- it was gorgeous. It looked like an army magnum at first glance, but it had clearly been rebuilt almost from scratch. The metal was polished to a mirror sheen and had been blued, making the enormous pistol almost cast a cerulean glow over Samael's grey fur. When York moved his hand curiously toward it, Samael smiled and offered it to him.

York plucked it up gingerly and then held it up to his good eye with a soft whistle. There was an engraving etched along the slide, From Sampi With Love, and on the other side, Eih Cakkco Fif. York racked his brain for the translation and Samael chuckled softly. "Means 'Our Little Pup'." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Andee, Mutt 'n a few of their metalworkers made it fer me. Andee, he actually gave it to me just after our li'l meetin' in there. We, uh. We had our own li'l talk 'fore you'n I came out here."

"It's beautiful, Sammy," York murmured as he rubbed a thumb slowly over the gleaming metal. "They gifted this to you?"

Samael smiled faintly again and nodded. "Yeah. I guess I spend more time there than I realize."

"Yeah, no shit. They aren't exactly known for even talking to outsiders much, let alone giving them gifts," York replied as he gently passed the custom handgun back.

Samael accepted it and gazed at it for a few more seconds before placing it tenderly back into its holster within the pouch. "Them bat-folk, they mean a lot to me. They're like family now. An'. An' I found out I ain't the only one who's got connections there. They, uh. They gotta shrine out in them caves..."

York blinked and then smiled fondly at the memories. "Oh hell -- that's Tracer's monument!" Samael's eyes widened and York laughed, feeling a strange but welcome twinge of nostalgia for thoughts of times that somehow felt simpler. "Yeah, I saw it one time we were out there a couple years ago. Pretty damn awesome of Juwo and his people...I don't think he got a memorial anywhere else, unless Nelson has some little one squirreled away..."

Samael opened his muzzle with a tremble, only for a voice behind them to cause them to both glance over York's shoulder to see a rebel wheezing and struggling to climb onto the ledge. "There you two are! Uh..." She only seemed mildly fazed by the way they were all but cuddling, simply shrugging and then jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Wash was looking for you, York. And um...Nelson, she. I think she's looking for you, too, Sammy."

York chuckled. "If she's yelling for 'that fucking inbred redneck Wurlitz', yeah. That's you, ain't it, pal?" He beamed back at Samael before blinking as he saw his friend quickly plastering on a smile. But Samael was already hopping up to stand before he could ask about it, reaching down to help yank York back up to his feet as well.

"Heh -- yep, that's me. I, uh...shit, yeah, I better get back to her." York gave him a concerned look but Samael just smiled again and hugged him tight before knocking his fist lightly against his chest. "Tell yer li'l pine cone what Nelson wants, an' when you can, you lemme know if y'all need help findin' proof. Y'know I got y'all's back." He reached up to squeeze York's shoulder before exhaling and moving to follow the rebel back down as York watched him for a moment. Well. Whatever Samael had in mind, finding it out would just have to be one more reason for York to survive this damn war. He smiled faintly as he eased himself onto the same path downward.

Whatever it took.

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.